StakeOut
by Phx
Summary: Another incident that could have taken place during any one of the brother's cases. COMPLETED


**Special Notes:**Thanks to Stormwatcher for putting the bug in my ear about this; and thank you to all the wonderful posters whose threads inspired many of these conversations!

**Stake-Out**

Eighteen-year-old Frank Hardy sighed and shook his head when he saw his younger brother, Joe, come out of the coffee shop with two extra-large drinks (a coffee for Frank and a hot chocolate for himself), a lollipop in his mouth- the horrid lemon kind carried by the coffee franchise- and _two_ boxes of donuts! Two!

"Hungry?" he inquired quirking an eyebrow at the blond haired seventeen-year-old.

"You know it," Joe managed while keeping the lollipop in his mouth, "I'm a growing boy!"

Frank almost choked on his next breath as he tried to breathe and snort at the same time, "Y-you gotta be k-kidding!" he coughed. His brother looked at him and deadpanned:

"I am always serious when it comes to food."

"Now you sound like Chet," Frank teased as he took the drinks and put them in the cup holders on the front dash of the van. Chet Morton was one of the Hardys closest friends and kept his ample physique well fueled with food!

Joe put the two boxes of donuts on the floor between the front seats, got in and fastened up his seatbelt. He shrugged and then took out the lollipop- yup that disgusting lemon like Frank suspected- "Can't blame a man for having a plan." He then added, "Is my tongue yellow?" And promptly stuck it out!

Frank groaned and waved his hands at his brother in a very distinctive 'put that way gesture!' "This is going to be a very long night!" the dark haired teen grumbled as he started the van and pulled out of the parking spot.

"_What?_" Joe asked; the picture of innocence as he stuck the sucker back in his mouth.

"You know '_what'_! Me stuck in the van for God knows how long- with you and 24 donuts!" the older boy sounded pitiful.

"Don't forget the lollipop!" Joe quipped brightly, his face breaking into a wide grin; a wide grin with a lollipop stick sticking out of it!

"Someone _please _shoot me now!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Are we there yet?" Joe asked for the tenth time in the last five minutes as Frank carefully maneuvered the back streets of Bayport, hometown to the brothers and apparently a nefarious gang of exporters and importers that the brother's had been sent to stake out.

Their father, private investigator Fenton Hardy, enlisted his sons help from time to time with his cases. And this was one such time.

Fenton needed a warehouse staked out. Nothing complicated. The brothers just had to keep an eye out for a particular person. When that person showed up, the boys would call the police and then leave the area. It was definitely one of their lesser dangerous assignments!

"Does that street sign say 'Providence Road'?" Frank asked, instead of answering.

"No," the blond boy said, following the sign with his eyes as they drove pass.

"Then we're not there yet," Frank quipped, keeping his eyes on the road and ignoring the look he knew his brother would give him. He was rewarded for his effort by a jab in the arm. "Hey!" he scoffed, feigning indignity, "No beating up the driver!"

"Well stop harassing the passenger," Joe shot back, as he flipped down the hidden vanity mirror and stuck out his tongue- it _was_ rather yellow. The lollipop was now a thing of the past.

"Joe," Frank said patiently as he checked both directions before driving through an intersection with no traffic lights, "we are going on a stake-out not to the mall so stop admiring yourself. Trust me; it isn't going to help. You're about as good as you're going to get."

"But my tongue is yellow!" Joe whined opening up his mouth wide to see how far the yellow went.

"My point exactly," Frank stated with a straight face. Very much a feat in itself!

"You're just jealous because I'm the good looking one," Joe retorted, as he started checking out a spot on his nose.

Frank burst out laughing, "What the hell was in that lollipop tonight? The good looking one? Well, I suppose… if it was dark enough!"

"Frank!" Joe brushed the speck of dust off his nose, slammed the vanity mirror shut and glared at his brother, "whatever happened to encouraging your lovable younger sibling; fostering his self-esteem; boosting his ego-"

The older boy cut him off as he scoffed, "My lovable younger sibling? Gee, Joe I don't know… I'll let you know as soon as I meet him!" His brown eyes glinted with humor, "or _her_."

"H-her?" Joe squeaked, "You mean you'd trade me in for a… _a girl_?"

"In a heartbeat," the older boy chuckled, "there is no way in hell a sister could be half the trouble as you." He glanced down at the two boxes of donuts between the seats, "And she'd be cheaper to feed."

"Harrumph," Joe crossed his arms and muttered; "Well I'd rather a dog than an older brother."

"Woof, woof," Frank grinned and then became serious, "We're here." He drove past the warehouse, getting the feel for the area before picking up a spot across the road from it to park. There were a couple of other vehicles parked similarly against the curb so the teen was sure the van would not stand out. He turned off the vehicle and glanced out the window at the building.

"Wow," Joe whistled appreciatively, leaned forward in his seat and looked out Frank's side window as well.

"_Wow_?" the dark haired teen turned to look at his brother, "Joe, it's just a warehouse; pretty standard one at that. I don't see anything 'wow' about it."

"Who's looking at that dump?" the younger boy scoffed and then pointed with his finger towards the motorcycle parked outside the building, "Look at that!" Frank pushed his hand down as Joe continued, "It's a _CBR1000RR Fireblade Supersports bike_!"

Frank looked back at the motorcycle, "I see a bike."

"_A bike_?" Joe practically swallowed his tongue, "Frank that bike is an appreciation of beauty! Look at it!" Frank looked. "It has a 998 cc engine, 182 horsepower engine at 11,250 rpm, and a six-speed gearbox transmission!" His blue eyes shone with excitement.

"Ooooh," Frank said slowly, unable to resist tormenting his brother, "so it's a _really good_ bike." He shrugged down in the seat as Joe whacked him on the shoulder.

"You're hopeless," Joe growled as he shook his head and sat back in his own seat, "What does this guy look like anyway?"

Frank shoved the donuts aside and picked up the manila folder from the floor. Opening it, he pulled out a glossy 8x11 black and white picture of a tall black haired man with a pock-marked face and ample beer belly. He glanced down at it briefly, having already committed the man's face to memory, and then handed it to his brother.

"Well now, isn't he a babe magnet?" Joe commented sarcastically as he studied the photo.

"More like the antidote to romance," Frank quipped stifling a grin at his own wittiness.

"_The antidote to romance_?" Joe laughed, "That's a good one, bro! I gotta try and remember that one!" Passing the picture back, Joe reached down and picked up one of the boxes of donuts, opened it and fished out a honey crueler. "Want one?" he offered his brother.

"Not yet," Frank declined and then eyed his brother warily, "And I'm not really sure you do either. It's kind of late for a sugar rush isn't it, little brother?"

"Nope," Joe bit into the donut and grinned; glaze mustached his top lip, "N'ver too late!"

Frank shook his head, leaned back in his seat and stared out the window at the warehouse. This was going to be a long night.

An hour later, he was ready to kill his brother.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Well would you?" Joe pressed as he drummed his fingers on his legs.

"Would I what?" Frank was trying to ignore the whole conversation Joe had somehow sunk them in. He was dizzy trying to figure out how a conversation about motorcycles- with Joe giving him much more information than he had ever wanted to know- got to _this!_

"You know- what we were just talking about," the blond teen was _not_ letting him off so easily. He wanted Frank to say it!

"I dunno, Joe. What were we just talking about?" the dark haired teen finished the last of his coffee and wondered how much longer he could hold his bladder.

"Frank!" Joe punched him lightly in the arm.

"Would you stop hitting me!" the older boy complained, exaggeratedly rubbing his arm, although it hadn't hurt. He and Joe were always roughhousing, a punch here, a jab there; more a gesture of affection than anything else- never to hurt; and _much_ to their aunt's chagrin, whenever she came to visit. The older woman could never understand how her sister-in-law could keep her house in one piece with two 'hooligans' like that carrying on as such, all the time!

"You're not changing the subject," Joe continued doggedly, "Would you?"

"Let me ask you first," Frank countered, "Would you?"

"Not only would I… but I already have!" Joe jutted out his chest proudly as his brother's head whipped around to look at him, his dark eyes bugged out against the disbelieving look on his face.

"You never-"

"Yup."

"When?" Frank had to know!

"Now that's a rather personal question, isn't it?" Joe coyly evaded, "I'm not sure Vanessa'd be comfortable with me divulging such information-"

Frank grabbed his brother's arm tightly and growled "Listen, kid. I have ways of making you talk that even dad doesn't know about!"

Joe's eyes widened in a mock horror belied by the grin twisting at the corners of his mouth, "Oh the horrors! Death by internet!"

The older boy let go of his arm and sat back in his seat, a smug look on his face, "The internet is full of all sorts of interesting tidbits. Now 'fess up little brother or else I'm going to think you're talking trash."

Joe shrugged, picked up his cold hot chocolate and took a slow sip. He still had half of his left. He put the drink back down, wiped his mouth and then said casually, "Last week when we were all hanging out at the Mortons farm and Van and me went for a walk. You didn't think we were really _walking_ did you?"

Frank's eyes went even wider in his face, "Noooo."

"Yup," Joe's face slowly broke into a wide smile, "we weren't walking, big brother. We were driving. Well actually I was driving- Vanessa's a bit old fashioned about that kind of stuff-"

Slowly the older boy started to grin as his brother continued, "so I drove her right to that little convince store. You know the one, Mickey's Fast Gas and Convenience-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know it, on with the story," Frank pressed.

"Well when we got there, Vanessa was hit with the worst stomach pain ever." Joe's face paled as he remembered it and Frank almost doubled over trying so hard to keep from laughing as he could all too easily visualize this, "Oh man Frank- that is the most horrible thing! I am so glad I'm not a girl! Poor Mom!"

"_Poor Mom_?" the older boy couldn't take it any more and burst out laughing.

"Yeah poor Mom- hey you're not being very sympathetic here, Frank," the younger boy chastised, "I'm telling Callie!"

"No…" Frank choked out as he tried desperately to cap the outburst knowing full well Joe would go through on his threat! "Please, I'm better now. Anyway, Vanessa had a… s-stomach cramp?" he snickered again and then put his hand over his mouth and stared back out the window. The image of warehouse blurred though as tears laughed down his face when his brother finally spit it out, reaching a new level of indignity:

"Yeah so guess who had to go in and ask for _Tampons, slim fit for her comfort!_ You got it! MEEEEE!" Joe looked mortified and Frank couldn't hold it in- he doubled over laughing and then a second later _he_ looked mortified:

"Oh crap!" he hissed, hastily undoing his seatbelt and then fleeing the van, "I gotta pee!"

Joe's howling laughter followed him.

"You still never answered my question," Joe told Frank after the older boy had returned to the van and they both settled down.

Frank sighed and wiped his face, stifling a chuckle, "Okay… to answer your question. No, I have never purchased any feminine delicate products for Callie. Now, _would I_?" He looked at his brother and then just burst out, "Why the hell should I when you're so obviously experienced? _I'd just send you_!"

He managed to block Joe's response and for a few brief moments the brother's scuffled in the van until suddenly Joe held up his hand, his blue eyes shooting towards the warehouse. Frank immediately glanced back over and they watched a man getting out of a dark car.

"Is it Pock-face?" Joe whispered as Frank pressed his face against the window for a good look. A moment later the older boy shook his head.

"No," he frowned at Joe. "That wasn't nice."

"What?" Joe had no idea what he was talking about.

"Calling him 'Pock-face'. It's not nice to make fun of someone's physical appearance, "the older boy chastised and for one moment Joe was speechless as he stared at Frank in disbelief. And then he shook his head:

"I know that- and I wouldn't-"

"You just did," Frank pointed out.

"Yeah but I only did that because he's a bad man, Frank. _The bad guy._ The good guys always make up some sort of name for the bad guy- you remember that don't you? Well I figured 'Pock-face' was pretty good. What would you prefer? Romeo, maybe?' Joe reached down and picked up the almost empty box of donuts. The other one, untouched, remained on the floor.

"Well no," Frank admitted picking out a chocolate glazed donut from the box, "but-"

"But I would never call anyone a name unless they deserved it. And from what Dad told us about this guy, he deserves it. You know that! Come on big brother, you're talking to the guy who gets called _'Blondie'_ at least once on every case by boozos like him! Usually just as they're about to do something rather unpleasant to me." Joe looked at his brother and said slowly, his voice strangely reflective, "You know… now that I think about it, I have never once heard you called 'Brownie'. Why is that I wonder?"

"Because I'm not good enough to eat," the words were out of Frank's mouth before he could stop them.

Joe just about choked on his donut! Leaning across to give his brother a hearty pat on the back, Frank blushed, "Sorry."

"Oh that's bad, Frank. Bad, bad, bad. My mind just slid right down into the gutter!" Joe grinned as he waited for the response he knew he'd just set himself up for!

"Then it never had far to go!" Frank quipped.

"Hey!" the younger boy tried to sound indignant but it didn't really work. He grinned and finished his donut in silence.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Would you stop doing that?" Frank asked turning to look at Joe.

The younger boy had been gazing out the front windshield, watching for oncoming traffic but shifted to look at his brother. "Stop what?"

"You know what," Frank said, "So please stop it."

"Frank," Joe frowned, slightly, "if I knew what to stop, I probably would!"

"The bouncing," the older boy enlightened, "Your leg, whenever you get wired your leg goes off on its own! See!" he pointed at Joe's legs and sure enough, one of them was bouncing.

"Oh sorry!" The blond teen said sheepishly as he consciously stopped the bouncing, "I hadn't realized it was doing that."

"Too much sugar," Frank grumbled glancing at his watch. It was now 11 p.m and the brothers had been on the stake-out for two and a half hours, one coffee, one hot chocolate and twelve donuts now!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Hey Frank," Joe said out of the blue, "Did you know that Aunt Gertrude has a tattoo?"

Struck speechless by the comment, it took the older boy a moment to say anything, "What?"

"A tattoo," Joe repeated, his leg starting to bounce again, but this time it was worse as he started to tap his fingers on his leg, "I never knew it before- it's a pretty cool one though, it's a tiger face one, but the face is in the shape of a butterfly. Very intricate!"

"Dare I ask where?" Frank was almost afraid of the answer but as his aunt did always dress rather conservatively, it could be almost anywhere!

"Her lower back," Joe grinned at the look on his brother's face; whether it was shock or horror, he couldn't tell.

"And- and you know this how?" Frank sputtered, his mind shot with a visual image!

"Well I mentioned to her that I was thinking of asking Mom and Dad if I could get one, so she showed me hers," Joe blushed through a grin, at the memory, "It is an event I will never forget. I tell her I want a tattoo- nothing gauche or anything- maybe an armband one or something and the next thing I know, she's lifting her blouse -"

"Enough! Enough!" Frank squeaked, "My mind can't take the mental on that anymore!"

Joe laughed as he reminded his brother, "Breathe, Frank, breathe- that's it brother." He waited until Frank got his exaggerated breathing under control and then added, "I'm sure she'd be willing to show you-"

Frank's hand flew over his brother's mouth, "Don't make me hurt you, kiddo," he growled but the grin on his face took away any of the menace. He added, "Or else I'll be forced to tell Aunt Gertrude who really tied her best pantyhose to the ceiling fan at grandma's house to watch time fly! _And_ I am sure Uncle Tim would love to know since it was his clock that went out flying out the window when that stupid knot you tied in the pantyhose let go! You really do suck at knot tying, you know!"

"You wouldn't!" Joe was horrified. If the older woman ever found out- or his uncle for that matter! As it was, he was darn lucky that there were three other children staying there that summer and Aunt Gertrude hadn't been able to pin it down to Joe. Being the youngest of the kids, she hadn't suspected him- well, maybe just a little!

"Try me."

"Okay no more tattoo talk- and I don't suck at tying knots! Just knots in pantyhose," he added under his breath, "mind you, with a little more practice-"

Frank swatted his arm, playfully, "Why don't you ask Vanessa? Maybe she'll let you practice your pantyhose tying with hers!"

"You weren't supposed to hear that!" Joe retorted.

"I know," Frank grinned and then asked, "So what did you decide about the tattoo? You said you were going to ask Mom and Dad about it?"

"Oh that," Joe shrugged, his fingers still drumming restlessly on his bouncing leg, "I decided to wait a bit. I'm not too sure if that would be wise, you know, for a detective. A definite identifying mark, that's for sure. I would really like to get one though…"

"Well you could try a temporary henna one and see if its an issue. Mind you, an armband tattoo might be a bit obvious- but I dunno, maybe a lower back tattoo or something. Chances are if the bad guys take your shirt off, they already know who you are," Frank advised and he could see his brother nodding at the suggestion.

"That's an idea- " Joe smiled, "Thanks big brother!"

"No problem," Frank returned the smile and looked out the side window, casting a glance at the bouncing leg once again. He sighed. "Now can you please stop doing that!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Oooh my stomach hurts," Joe moaned an hour later. They had seen nothing exciting at the warehouse yet. Frank rubbed his eyes tiredly as he yawned:

"How many donuts did you eat?"

"I dunno- but there's a dozen in a box," he moaned again before asking, "How many did you eat?"

"One," Frank replied, "A chocolate glazed."

Joe reached down opened the box, did the math and groaned, "Eleven."

"ELEVEN!" the older boy's voice rang with incredulity, "You ate eleven donuts? No wonder your stomach isn't feeling so good!"

"I'm being serious here," Joe looked very green, even in the darkness of the van, "my stomach really hurts!"

"Well after eating a dozen donuts-"

"Eleven, Frank," came the pitiful correction.

"Okay, eleven then," Frank picked up, "After eating 'eleven' donuts I dare say your stomach is pissed off! And rightfully so!"

"ooooh…." Was the only response.

The older boy looked at his brother, his sympathy overcoming his disbelief, "You don't look so good."

"Gee thanks Frank… ooooh…"

Ignoring the comment, he continued, "Why don't you lie down across the bench seat in back for a while. I can keep watch."

"Could you?" the amount of gratitude in the voice increased the sympathy tenfold and Frank undid Joe's seatbelt for him.

"Go on, little brother. Lie down until you're feeling a bit better. I'll give a shout if anything exciting happens, "Frank promised.

"Nothing exciting better happen," Joe groused painfully as he curled up on his side on the bench seat and wrapped his arms around his aching midsection, "This is supposed to be a watch and call. We watch and then we call. I know, personally, I'd rather not end up trussed and hog-tied tonight if at all possible… owww…"

Frank smiled in agreement and returned his attention out the side window. It was after midnight now.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Hey, we got gypped!" the indignant voice from the seat beside him made the older boy sigh and glance over. It was now 3 a.m and nothing at all had happened except that Joe had just woken up from a two hour nap, with a better tummy and complaining he was now hungry again!

The blond haired teen had just picked up the second box of donuts and was scowling down at the contents. Frank immediately grabbed the box from him, "Oh no you don't. I think you've had more than your share of donuts tonight- yours and a couple of other peoples!"

"Frank-" Joe whined but the older boy just shook his head, his voice was firm:

"Nope, don't 'Frank' me," Frank warned him, "I am not having you tossing your cookies… or should I say your donuts in this van tonight! Nor do I really want to explain to Mom why her baby overdosed on sugar while I did nothing to stop it!"

"Okay, okay already," the younger boy groused, "See a dog would have been better."

"A sister would have never eaten that many donuts! Heck she probably wouldn't have wanted any!" Frank rebutted.

"Yeah but then you'd be buying tamp-"

"Don't even say it!" Frank cut him off, "Now what were you saying about being gypped?"

"Well I paid for twelve donuts but twelve donuts is not what I got!" Joe explained and then watched as his brother opened the box and counted. A moment later, Frank looked at him:

"There's twelve donuts in here, Joe."

"No, there's not!" Joe protested and then he pointed to one that was a bit different than the rest, "See that one- he's an imposter!"

"An imposter?" Frank frowned, "Joe, it's a donut!"

"No, see Frank, that's the thing, it's not!" Joe started to say something else but then paused as a jeep pulled up outside the warehouse. It was the first sign of life they'd seen in hours! They waited as a black man got out and went into the warehouse. "I don't think Pock- I mean the guy is going to show."

Frank smiled as he heard his brother correct himself, "I don't think _Mr. Pock-face _is going to show either. But Dad told us to stay until 6 a.m and that's only another three hours. What are these guys doing here at this hour anyway?"

"I dunno, that's Dad's side of this investigation, "Joe shrugged and then continued where he'd left off, "I mean look at it, its- its square!"

"Yeah so?" Frank took out the offender and sized it up. Joe was right, it was square with glaze- maple, the teen quickly determined- on top of it.

"So that's NOT a donut!" Joe said adamantly. "A donut is round!"

"Joe," Frank spoke patiently, a true feat at this hour in the morning, "it is a donut- look at it. It's made out of the same type of dough as one of those." He pointed towards a Boston cream donut, "Just shaped different."

"Aha!" Joe almost shouted, "So you do admit… it _is_ different!"

"Well it's differently shaped-"

"Different is different, "Joe crowed, "and different does not, a donut make! Donuts are round!"

Frank raised his eyebrows in disbelief, "You're kidding right? Joe, come off it! A donut is a donut regardless of the shape!"

"Uh uh," the moonlight glinted off Joe's blond hair, "as a true donut connoisseur I have to say it is the distinctive shape of said food item that makes it such. Donuts are round and donuts have holes- now look at that 'fraud' and tell me where the hole is?"

The older boy bit his lip to keep from laughing at the seriousness on his brother's face. Then he couldn't help himself- poked his finger through the center and quipped, "Why Joe, there's your hole and hold on-" he quickly nibbled the edges until it was fairly round shaped. "See", he spoke through the mouthful of pastry, "its' round too!"

Joe stared open-mouthed at his brother and then he folded his arms across his chest and challenged, "Fine you've poked a hole in it and chewed off the non-donut parts, but what are you going to do about the name?"

"Da name?" Frank swallowed, "What are you talking about?"

"It's called a maple _BAR_, Frank- not a maple donut, a maple _bar_! I rest my case! It is not a donut and I want my money back- this dozen is corrupted!"

The older boy started to snicker but within moments the snicker turned to full blown laughter again. He was glad the windows were up or else they might be overheard, but he couldn't help himself. Joe looked so- so serious! And it wasn't helped at all when Joe spoke again!

"I'm being serious here!" the younger boy admonished, "This is _not_ a donut! I have no idea why they put it in this box! On the way back I want to stop off at that place so I can have a word with the staff!"

Now Frank was laughing so hard, he started to hiccup! He couldn't believe this. "You… got… to… be… kidding…" he managed to spit out as he held his aching sides at the preposterousness of what Joe wanted to do! It was just a bleeding donut!

"No I'm not, does this face look like it's kidding?" Frank had to admit, his younger brother did look extremely serious and then a mischievous glint lighted in the blue eyes, "I mean, come off it, you're talking to the future tampon supplier of the Hardy household!"

That was it, Frank was gone again!

When he'd finally settled down, he reached out and gave his brother's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, "I've changed my mind."

"Hmm? About what?" Joe looked into the dark brown eyes smiling at him.

"About a sister," Frank's voice was soft and serious, "I wouldn't trade you for the world, little brother…"

Joe reached up and put his hand on the one resting on his shoulder. He smiled. "Good… 'cause I kinda like being your brother, a lot." The words may have sounded casual but the sentiment wasn't and Frank reached up and tousled his brother's hair.

"Better than a dog?" he whispered.

"Much better-"Joe paused and then his smile broadened- signaling the end of the moment, intense but fleeting - "you shed a lot less!"

"Why I oughta-"whatever Frank was going to threaten was lost as a brown car pulled off the street and parked next to the jeep. A tall man with black hair, a pock-marked face and ample beer belly got out and went inside.

The boys looked at each other. Frank nodded. Joe made the call. Frank drove them away. Their part of the investigation was over

"Hey Frank," Joe reminded his brother, as he opened the donut box again and fished out a duchies, "Don't forgot to drop by that donut place! I need to have a word with those guys! A donut indeed!"

Frank rolled his eyes but said nothing. '_Oh, little brother_,' he thought fondly, _'you are irreplaceable.'_

The End


End file.
